与奶奶共舞（2）
《美丽英文》作者：方雪梅 2017-04-14 12:47
与奶奶共舞（2）
Dancing with Nonny
Anonymous
When I married my wife Martha, it was the most beautiful day of my life.
We were young and healthy, tanned and handsome. Every picture taken that day showed us smiling, hugging, and kissing. We were the perfect hosts, never cranky or tired. We were as happy and carefree as the porcelain couple on our towering wedding cake.
Halfway through the reception, in between the pictures and the cake and the garter and the bouquet, my grandmother tapped me gently on the shoulder. I hugged her in a flurry of other well-wishers and barely heard her whisper, “Will you dance with me, sweetheart？”
“Sure, Nonny,” I said, smiling and with the best of intentions, even as some out-of- town guests pulled me off in their direction. An hour later my grandmother tried again. And again I readily agreed, smiling and reaching for her with an outstretched hand but letting some old college buddies place a fresh beer there instead, just before dragging me off for some last-minute wedding night advice！
Finally, my grandmother gave up.
There were kisses and hugs and rice and tin cans and then my wife and I were off on our honeymoon. A nagging concern grew in the back of my mind as we wined and dined our way down to Mi*** for a week-long cruise and then back again when it was over.
When we finally returned to our new home, a phone message told us our pictures were waiting at the photographer’s. We unpacked slowly and then moseyed on down to pick them up. Hours later, after we had ex***ned every one with fond memories, I held one out to reflect upon in private.
It was a picture of two happy guests, sweaty and rowdy in their dancing. But it wasn’t the grinning couple I was focusing on. There, in the background, was my grandmother, Nonny.
I had spotted her blue dress right away. Her simple pearls. The brand new hairdo I knew she’d gotten special for that day, even though she was on a fixed income. I saw her scuffed shoes and a run in her stocking and her tired hands clutching at a well-used ha
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Dancing with Nonny
Anonymous
When I married my wife Martha, it was the most beautiful day of my life.
We were young and healthy, tanned and handsome. Every picture taken that day showed us smiling, hugging, and kissing. We were the perfect hosts, never cranky or tired. We were as happy and carefree as the porcelain couple on our towering wedding cake.
Halfway through the reception, in between the pictures and the cake and the garter and the bouquet, my grandmother tapped me gently on the shoulder. I hugged her in a flurry of other well-wishers and barely heard her whisper, “Will you dance with me, sweetheart？”
“Sure, Nonny,” I said, smiling and with the best of intentions, even as some out-of- town guests pulled me off in their direction. An hour later my grandmother tried again. And again I readily agreed, smiling and reaching for her with an outstretched hand but letting some old college buddies place a fresh beer there instead, just before dragging me off for some last-minute wedding night advice！
Finally, my grandmother gave up.
There were kisses and hugs and rice and tin cans and then my wife and I were off on our honeymoon. A nagging concern grew in the back of my mind as we wined and dined our way down to Mi*** for a week-long cruise and then back again when it was over.
When we finally returned to our new home, a phone message told us our pictures were waiting at the photographer’s. We unpacked slowly and then moseyed on down to pick them up. Hours later, after we had ex***ned every one with fond memories, I held one out to reflect upon in private.
It was a picture of two happy guests, sweaty and rowdy in their dancing. But it wasn’t the grinning couple I was focusing on. There, in the background, was my grandmother, Nonny.
I had spotted her blue dress right away. Her simple pearls. The brand new hairdo I knew she’d gotten special for that day, even though she was on a fixed income. I saw her scuffed shoes and a run in her stocking and her tired hands clutching at a well-used ha